all day long, snow, slowburn. a blackout night, i wake up on the floor after walking home through the city--climbed a fence, crossed the train tracks, ripped out the seat of my pants, arms abraided, acrid breath, crooked neck. shoes, shirt, jacket all soaked through, in a pile in the kitchen. new marks on my face, fingers, thighs. all vaguely memorable like in a dream.inventory: sambuca, margaritas, marnier, four four roses. exegesis of all my tattoos. closing time, then night rolling over like the sleek back of a tidal wave.
tomorrow i have to say goodbye. my only mother. i'm tired of this fiction that has my name.
1 comments:
I like this too.
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